Gemotions

The auctioneer’s booming voice echoed in the cavernous hall. The silver tea set, her mother’s, gleamed under the bright lights. Clara felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Each bid was a tiny stab.

She clutched her husband's arm, her nails digging into his skin. His hand patted hers in a gesture of reassurance, but it couldn't soothe the raw feeling in her chest.

She watched as the hammer came down. The tea set, gone. An invisible weight seemed to settle on her shoulders, the consequence of things she couldn't control.